Sunday, August 31, 2008

Remember how I was wondering how things ended up where they did? Well, I had a thought this morning regarding the shoes by the side of the road. I was walking through an alley and I saw a sock and shoe and I heard an ex-boyfriend's words in my head, "Baby, please be careful or you're going to lose a shoe one of these days." That was his way of telling me not to get hit by a car, since it seems that, most of the time, when a body gets hit my a car with enough force, they always lose a shoe. See, I have this bad habit of marching across the street like a polar bear crossing penguins, thinking, fuck them if they don't stop. So far I've been okay, but the people close to me are always a bit nervous about my little habit. Assuming all of that is true then that would explain the shoes by the side of the road. People getting hit by cars. It's not nearly as interesting anymore.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

have you ever been knocked down by a wave and then, when you've barely crawled up to your knees, another one comes along and wipes you out? Well, i have a friend who this keeps happening to and given the current emotional climate for a lot of folks I thought I would like to put it out there for anyone else. Hold tight, stand strong as best you can and remember to breathe.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

So here in L.A. there was an ordinance passed a while back that forbid our beloved taco trucks from staying in one place for more than an hour. Said ordinance has been over turned. The L.A. Times, our joke of a local paper, has the article here.

It cites business owners who said that their customers are being driven away and that they are on the "brink of bankruptcy". Maybe someone should tell them that, if they are losing business to a roach coach, the problem might just be their crummy food and not the little people just trying to make a living.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

What is it with lesbians and kelly clarkson? More specifically, what is it with lesbians and "Since U Been Gone"? It seems like everytime there is a large congregation of lezzies and that song comes on they go ape shit and jump up and down and scream along. I downloaded the song for research and I just don't get it. I even put it on in my living room and jumped up and down and did my best to go ape shit but really was just kind of, "eh". Maybe there is something I'm missing. I put it on to the car and sang along, yes the words have been burned into my brain. A girl at the office where I used to work loved it and would play it on repeat through out the day. I wanted to stab myself in the face and secretly hoped that every cd, album and ipod containing that song would simultaneously get hit by a bus. Again, I don't get it. yes, its catchy and angsty and poppy and, though I no longer want to stab myself in the face when I hear it, (secretly I even enjoy it from time to time) it does not drive me to scream and dance. Please explain.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

I wonder how things end up where they do. I mean, what is the logic behind when, why and where someone decides to throw a random object? For example, I was behind a bush the other day and I looked down to see a pair of child's pink sandals and a back pack and canvas bag. I would assume that these things took their trip beyond the bush together, but one can never be sure. Of course, the way my head works, I immediately thought that some poor child had probably been kidnapped and the perpetrator stashed the evidence behind the bush. Maybe I should lay off the late night law and order...

Then there are the shoes that live on the side of the road. We've all seen them. They are there, sad and lifeless, wondering what happened. You can almost see their little eyelets turning around, thinking, "Hey, what happened to my foot?" Is there a matching person out there going, "Hey, what happened to my shoe?" Or did they make a conscious decision that it would be a super idea to take off their shoe and throw it out the car window? Something along the lines of, "you know, I'm kind of over this left shoe, I think I will drop it on the road, maybe someone else will want it"?

Then there was the time I found one gold painted sneaker and one gold sandal on the mailbox. I'm thinking this was a case of someone attempting art, though I never could figure out the statement. Any ideas?

Sunday, August 24, 2008

His hand never falls asleep before midnight and Caliope was eating popcorn. It started with his middle finger and spread, like a disease, through the tendons, flesh and bone. He offered her a bite. They had been waiting hours for it to finally fall asleep. A more romantic meal was never shared. They tore into it. She remarked that the texture was not unlike chicken wings. Never having eaten a human being before she figured it was customary to make a comment on the unique flavor but couldn't find one, so she went with the old stand by. She took to it easily enough as he had been prepping her for weeks.

He then checked the state of his forearms, as they were now picking and sucking at only bone. The carcass of his hand now gleaming white. He asked her for a rubber band to speed up the process, which, she reminded him, causes the meat to toughen. "Didn't you tell me that we shouldn't rush the process when it's for company. We had an appetizer, so relax!"

He wondered aloud what would happen when their guests arrived. How would she take it? Would she panic? Would she understand? He hoped she would.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

I don't know anything about planets or alignment or eclipses or whatever, but something is definitely up. I feel like every other conversation I have is with someone who has some serious shit going down. This past week has been stressful and relationships of all kinds have been out of whack. I have one friends who went to the e.r., one who had her tongue accidentally sliced open at the dentist and one who had a full blown anxiety attack out of nowhere. That is not to mention the other people who have just had super doosies emotionally. Again I ask, what the hell is going on?

Thursday, August 21, 2008

"Was it the midget, or the woman that slapped you in the face?" She says this in all seriousness as she fishes a barely dusty peanut out of her pocket and begins to eat it, momentarily distracting him from having been caught having done something warranting a black eye from either a midget or a woman.

"Well?" She stares at him, bringing him back to the events of the night before.

"I don't remember, but I know it wasn't a fucking horse that bit your inner thigh." His response breaks her surface with a smile. She laughs, they are even.

***

They met months ago, better or worse timing could not have been planned. She had a boyfriend, but he treated her badly. She was taken immediately. He didn't even remember her face. Later, friends would let her down gently, "Um, sweetie, he's not really sure who you are...and I think maybe you should take that as a sign." She took the sign in hand and walked through the door.

They met again weeks later in a smoky bathroom where neither could meet the other's eye. She was on a date. He had to leave early to catch a plane to see his mother. She flew up into the hills for interpretive dance and to watch a man urinate on himself. She thought of him...and his barbecue sauce. When he offered to cover her in it and throw her on the grill she thought briefly of fava beans and hannibal lecter.

She took pepper spray on their first date. She takes pepper spray on all her first dates. Not that she is in the habit of dating murderers and rapists, but one can never be too careful. They ate pizza and salad with their hands. She thinks they watched a movie, but can't really be sure. The conversation was stilted and peppered with nervous giggles. She noticed that he seemed to be sweating a lot and commenting on his bad circulation.

As the days turned into weeks they settled into that level of comfortability which comes from familiarity. She got to know his dog. He grew to love her cat.

Monday, August 18, 2008

There is something about 7 am on a foggy morning that makes me homesick. I think it's that, as a child, we always took the first flight out. Or maybe it's the quiet stillness of a house just waking up that gets me. Either way, it's an odd feeling to be standing in the middle of your very own living room and want to go home. Especially when you don't have any other home.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Well, at least he tried and it might not make you laugh but it me smile. If you can make it to the eeyore moment at the end it might make it worth it, but then, if know neither matthew nor I it might not.

FAQ's

What is the Dirty Ballerina?

A: The Dirty Ballerina is a collection of words, drawings and meanderings that fell out of my head and onto a page. (In the real life paper version there will be things that fell out of other people's heads sometimes.)

Who is the dirty ballerina?

A: Me.

Why do you get to be THE dirty ballerina? What makes you so special?

A: Because I said so and because that's me in the tutu.

Do you even do ballet?

A: The last time I did ballet was when that picture was taken 22 years ago.

*I'm going to stop here before it gets ugly and say that everyone has a little dirty ballerina inside of them. The next time you pour coffee down the front of your fancy outfit or trip and fall in the mud stop for a minute and look at yourself. Are you laughing? There she is...

Thirty in Thirty

As an assignment to myself and to push myself to learn about deadlines I am writing a blog everyday for thirty days. The only requirement I have is that I cannot blog about blogging. Most of it may be crap but I'm doing it anyway, so there.

Just Remember

My grandma always says, never let the truth get in the way of a good story. I always say, the truth is better than anything you can make up. I also tend to listen to my grandma as she's pretty smart. So, if you pop up, or think you pop up in anything I write you might be right, but then again, you might be wrong. All memory is fiction essentially, right?